


Liar, Liar

by FantasySwap



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Sickfic, Stubborn boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-21 11:10:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20692541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantasySwap/pseuds/FantasySwap
Summary: “I’m not sick!” These words are followed up by a muffled sneeze and a lot of guilty sniffing, like Eddie is trying and failing to be surreptitious.“You have a fever and you’re shivering.” Richie points out, very matter of fact. “Please, for the love of god, get into bed andstay there.”





	Liar, Liar

There are many downsides to years of emotional abuse and manipulation, of being lied to and deceived. Richie knows this only secondhand, but he feels Eddie’s pain like it’s his own. Eddie is really the only person he’s ever loved in that way, the only person he’s ever allowed himself to be with in that capacity. He’s not _ ashamed,_ per se, but with Eddie things just seem easier.

They’ve seen each other at their worst. Eddie has had to rescue Richie from far too many of the hazardous situations he gets himself into, and in return Richie has helped calm Eddie down after a hygiene related panic attack. They just… work, slot together like they fit each other perfectly.

So sure, there are downsides, but they go through them together whenever they can.

It turns out, however, that another downside of years of being lied to about fake illnesses is that, when Eddie actually _ is _ sick, he refuses to acknowledge it. Not only that, but when Richie tries to take care of him he turns from a charming, if slightly neurotic, boyfriend into a whiny little brat.

“I don’t _ need _ to get into bed, Richie,” Eddie complains for the third time that morning, struggling against the blankets that are caught around his ankles. If he’s too weak to fight himself out of bed, Richie thinks to himself, then he’s definitely not well enough to go into work.

“Eddie, oh my _ god–“_ Richie is about to bash his head against the wall. Eddie is five foot nine inches of pure demonic energy and he’s stored it all up for today, to make Richie’s life a living hell.

“I’m not sick!” These words are followed up by a muffled sneeze and a lot of guilty sniffing, like Eddie is trying and failing to be surreptitious. 

“You have a fever and you’re shivering.” Richie points out, very matter of fact. “Please, for the love of god, get into bed and _ stay there.” _

Eddie had come down with a cold the week before. It’s kind of ironic that he’s the sick one and not Richie considering how hard Eddie tries to avoid germs and how little Richie cares about that stuff, but now, watching this unfold before his eyes like a trainwreck, Richie thinks this might be karma.

Karma for Richie, for being such an asshole literally all the time, because now he has to deal with a mopey, whiny, sick boyfriend who won’t lie down.

“It’ll pass. I’ll just make a– _ achoo_! A coffee or something.” Richie can’t tell if Eddie’s blushing because of his embarrassment at seeming weak or because the fever is getting worse. “Besides, I don’t wanna stay in bed all day. I’ll be bored and lonely. At least at work I’ll be doing something.”

Richie pinches the bridge of his nose and wonders if he was ever this infuriating. He decides that yes, he almost certainly was, but at least his awesome jokes came with the package. Eddie is just being uncooperative to spite himself– and his mother, long gone from his life by now.

“Okay,” he sighs long-sufferingly, knowing he’s going to regret this next bit. “If I stay home with you today, will you please stop fighting me and just stay in bed?”

Eddie blinks at him and finally, _ finally _ lays back. He pulls the cover up to his nose and watches Richie through round, innocent eyes that remind Richie of how he first fell in love with Eddie.

“Maybe,” He says.

***

Richie regrets it within the first hour.

Richie is not a good cook by anyone’s standards, least of all Eddie’s who insists on sterilising the work surface before every meal he makes. He refuses to eat microwave meals on principle, so they’re a luxury Richie saves for the rare occasions Eddie works late.

Even so, he puts his heart and soul into anything he makes. An hour after he tucks Eddie into bed with about a hundred boxes of tissues and an innuendo on the tip of his tongue, he’s gazing down proudly at his chicken soup. It looks… odd, more grey than brown, with pieces of chicken floating around in there randomly.

So maybe it’s not the best, but it’s warm and he put a lot of effort into making it. It’s the thought that counts, right? Eddie will probably be pleased he at least tried to help.

Turns out he’s not. He takes one look at the bowl that Richie presents to him and turns his face away with an exaggerated gag. Richie frowns.

“I would literally rather lose all of my hair than eat that.” He tells Richie, sounding kind of delirious.

“Weird comparison but okay,” Richie sets the bowl down carefully on Eddie’s bedside table, being careful to avoid spilling it. That’ll only get Eddie even more worked up and then Richie will have to wipe it up, and he inevitably won’t do a good enough job and then Eddie will have to get up and do it and it’ll all be more hassle than it’s worth.

“C’mon, Eds, just pinch your nose. You need to eat something.” Richie coos, making an obnoxious flying aeroplane with a spoon.

“I can’t taste anything anyway, asshole.” Eddie groans, sounding bitter.

“Someone’s feeling bitchy.” Richie counters, settling down onto the bed beside Eddie. “So you admit you’re ill then?

Eddie stiffens and crosses his arms over his chest, nose twitching unhappily. “No,” He says, stroppy. “But even if I was, I wouldn’t eat your drainwater soup. Get it away from me before it _ makes _ me sick.”

Richie rolls his eyes and, with a huff, stands up again. “Whatever you say, your highness. Can your loyal servant get you anything else? Caviar, perhaps?”

“Shove your caviar up your ass.” He hears Eddie call after him as he descends the stairs. Back in the kitchen he dips a spoon into the soup and tastes it tentatively, wincing as soon as he does. Okay, so maybe Eddie’s right, but he didn’t have to be so mean about it.

***

Richie finds a blanket stuffed at the back of his closet. It’s musty and smells a bit weird, but it’s fluffy and warm and right now Eddie looks like he could use some comfort. He’s been tossing and turning all day, unable to sleep or eat or relax. He snaps at Richie whenever he tries to help, so maybe a snuggly blanket will be just what he’s been missing.

Apparently not. As soon as Richie shows it to him, Eddie levels him with such an appalled look that Richie almost bursts out laughing. 

“God, Richie, you’re supposed to keep cool when you have a fever.”

“Are you?” 

Eddie blinks like maybe he’s actually not too sure himself, but ultimately decides to ignore Richie’s question in favour of turning on his side. Richie sighs.

“So you admit you have a fever then?” Richie asks hopefully. Goading is probably not what’s best for Eddie right now, but if he’s going to keep being difficult then so is Richie.

Shut up, he’s mature.

“Fuck yourself.” Eddie says succinctly. Richie cackles as he leaves the room.

***

Richie leaves it a few hours after that. Maybe it’s not the best idea; it took him ages to get Eddie to stay in bed, so he should probably stay close by to stop him if he tries to escape.

But it seems like Eddie wants to be alone for a while, so Richie is going to let him have that. He wonders how confusing it must be for Eddie, after years of being told he’s sick and weak and needs protecting. If that was Richie, he wouldn’t want to let someone coddle him either.

It’s only when evening creeps up on him, dark encroaching outside their house, that he decides to go back to check on Eddie. It’s been a while and he hasn’t heard anything out of him in hours, so maybe he’s fallen asleep finally. If that’s happened, arichie will be eternally grateful.

But unfortunately when Richie creaks their bedroom door open Eddie looks round. He’s still awake then, curled up on his side with flushed cheeks and a miserable expression. Richie feels his heart break a little bit for this man he loves so dearly, and in that moment he doesn’t care about anything else.

“Fuck it,” He mutters, peeling his t-shirt off and tossing it somewhere onto the floor. He crawls into bed beside Eddie and tucks himself under the covers, wrapping an arm around Eddie’ waist and spooning him from behind.

“Hey– what are you doing?” Eddie cries hoarsely. “You’ll get sick!”

“So you admit that you’re sick, then?” Richie smiles, his words muffled where his mouth it pressed to Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie always feels so small when Richie holds him like this, so fragile and delicate, even though he’d chew out anyone that called him that to his face. It makes Richie want to protect him all the same.

“Fine, you asshole. I’m sick. There, happy now? Get off me or you’ll get sick too.” He can practically feel Eddie rolling his eyes, but he only tightens his hold and presses closer, breathing slow and contented into Eddie’s neck.

“Quite frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.” Richie parodies, but his voice is too soft for it to be funny. After a moment, Eddie snorts and relaxes back into Richie’s arms, shaking his head.

“That was awful. You’re awful, Richie Tozier.”

Richie presses a lazy kiss to Eddie’s shoulder and says, “Get some sleep, loser.”

Miraculously, Eddie does. Richie thinks that maybe, looking after his boyfriend isn’t all that bad.

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you think! <3


End file.
